


Kane Investigations

by Molly_Hats



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman, Batwoman (Comic), Bombshells (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bombshells is tagged because my KD characterization is from there, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Hats/pseuds/Molly_Hats
Summary: Bette Kane graduated from West Point, served her enlisted time as a military police officer, and headed to California to establish her own P.I. firm, realizing that Kate would never actually support her vigilantism.  In Los Angeles, she meets Kathleen Duquesne and suspects that she may know more about a brewing mob war than she lets on.  It's up to Bette, with some help from her "friend and ally" Flamebird, to solve some murders, unmask the organized crime rings ruling the city, and figure out exactly what Kathleen is hiding.





	1. Chapter 1

Parties were a really good place to find supervillains and/or vigilantes. It was because nobody could keep that up as a job without an actual source of income. Bette considered crunching some numbers as she navigated the ballroom--what percentage of the rich idiots with no day jobs were really living double lives as professional themed fighters?

“Excuse me,” a young woman said from behind her. 

“Yes?” Bette said, turning. Her gray eyes locked with the woman’s brown ones, and suddenly she felt like a little girl again, first seeing Robin doing all those stupid flips with that smile and that cute little derrière, smacked over the head by the abrupt recognition of human perfection. 

The woman stuck out a silver-gloved hand to shake hers. “Mary Kane? I heard you just got out of the army. How’s civilian life treating you?” 

“Please, it’s Bette, miss…” Bette said, shaking it and hoping her voice wasn’t wavering.

“Kathleen Duquesne,” she smiled, her dimples seeming to nearly reach the thick locks of dark hair that framed her face. Her hair was mostly pinned up in an elegant but simple updo which Bette’s eyes wandered to before they were drawn back to her face. “You can call me Kathy, if you like.”

“I’ll stick with Kathleen, if that’s alright,” Bette said. “Katherine’s a kind of common name in my family, so I know a lot of Kathys.”

Kathleen smiled. “That’s fine. It’s nice to meet you, Bette.”

“You as well,” Bette said, then, overcome with nervousness and desperately hoping she hadn’t lost her party etiquette over the years, she added, “I was thinking of taking a walk outside, if you’d like to join me.”

“I’d love to,” Kathleen said, taking Bette’s arm and smoothly moving toward the door, more than keeping stride with her. Her long white-silver dress shone slightly pink in the light, like an opal with fewer hidden colors. It practically glowed against her pale brown skin. 

“One of the appealing things about L.A. was the climate,” Bette said as they stepped onto a mostly-abandoned patio, light spilling out of the room they left behind. “Back home in Gotham, they’re probably salting the roads right about now.”

“The way reports come in from Gotham, I’d think you’d never know what the weather would be like,” Kathleen said. “What with the supervillains and general chaos, not to mention that volcano thing a few years ago.”

Bette laughed. “Yeah, I was at West Point during that whole mess, although I’m told it was nothing special.”

“It seems to me that Gotham wouldn’t know ‘special’ if it ran up and kissed them,” Kathleen said.

“Let’s hope that hasn’t rubbed off on me,” Bette said, heart pounding. She set a hand on the marble railing to steady herself, and felt Kathleen’s hand settle on it.

“Miss Duquesne?”

Bette jerked back, while Kathleen simply closed her eyes and sighed before turning to the newcomer, a nervous-looking Asian man in a black suit. “What is it, Richardson?”

“Your father wants you, miss,” he said, eyeing Bette.

Kathleen looked back at Bette, sighed, and said, “Duty calls. Can I make it up to you by treating you to dinner?”

Bette smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

“I’ll call you,” Kathleen said, turning and grabbing Richardson’s arm to practically drag him inside. In the doorway, she looked back and blew a kiss. Bette waved back. Then Richardson and Kathleen were gone, and Bette turned back to look at the sky.

(It was too smoggy to see the stars. Some things didn’t change.)


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you ever had Vietnamese food before?” Kathleen asked as they approached the restaurant, her arm laced through Bette’s.

“Not really,” Bette said. “I’ve had pho, of course, but that’s about it. Gotham’s got about three Vietnamese places in total, and they’re all technically in Chinatown.”

“Then I’ll be your guide,” Kathleen said with a smile, stepping through the restaurant’s doors. “And trust me, nobody knows Little Saigon like the Duquesnes.”

“Then by all means, lead the way,” Bette said.

The greeter nodded to Kathy and gestured for her to follow him. 

“They recognize you?” Bette whispered.

“This was my mother’s favorite place,” Kathleen said. 

The man escorted them to a table and they sat down. Bette’s eyes kept being drawn back to Richardson, who sat awkwardly at a nearby table, eyes on them.

Kathleen placed her hand on Bette’s on the table, making Bette look over at her instead. She rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. My father has insisted on him accompanying me everywhere since my mother was killed. I’m almost used to Dick.”

“You call him Dick?” Bette said.

“Yeah,” Kathleen said. “It’s not swearing, it’s short for—“

“Richard,” Bette interrupted. She blushed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve—“

Kathleen laughed. “It’s fine! You know a Dick, then?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard every joke, and made most of them. He’s a police detective, so you could say he’s—“

“Dick the dick,” Kathleen said with her. 

They laughed, and Bette added, “And when he was younger he could be a _total_ jerk, and saying his name with feeling wasn’t technically swearing, so it was a pretty good deal.”

Kathleen grinned. “Speaking of detectives, Kane Investigations get any cases yet?”

“No,” Bette admitted. “Didn’t really expect it, though. The paint on the door’s barely dry.”

Kathleen nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll get business soon. Place like this, cheap P.I.s don’t stay that way long.”

“Place like Los Angeles?” Bette said, her brow furrowing. “How come?”

“Because--” Kathleen paused as a waiter approached them. 

“What would you like, madam?”

Kathleen glanced over at Bette, who shrugged. “Pho Ga for me, please.”

The waiter nodded, turning to Bette. “And you?”

“Pho Bo, then,” Bette said, selecting the other soup option.

The waiter nodded and left the table. Kathleen leaned over conspiratorially again. “P.I.s around here retire, die, or hike their prices pretty quickly.”

“You’ve done research?” Bette said, taking a sip from her cup of water and trying not to gulp. 

Kathleen shrugged and twisted a strand of her long, loose black hair around her finger. “It’s amazing what you can pick up about a town without realizing it. I imagine Gotham’s similar.”

“You’ve heard of the onlyingotham hashtag, right?” Bette said. 

“Possibly,” Kathleen said with a little smirk. “And by ‘possibly,’ I mean, I’ve spent literal hours scrolling through it.”

“Ha. Who hasn’t?”

“Richardson, possibly.” Kathleen suggested. “You have any particular stories?”

“Well, somebody from out of town was _really_ taken aback when I used a flamethrower to light the shamash one Hanukkah.” She rolled her eyes.

“That kinda sounds like overkill,” Kathleen said gently.

“I was 19, I had a flamethrower, Uncle Jake asked me if I’d like to do the honors...it was a logical progression,” Bette protested, but she was grinning.

Kathleen shook her head with a smile and took a drink from her glass. 

“Gotta say, I miss the Gotham coffee shops,” Bette said. “They gradually developed this system and different vocabulary for describing coffee. I walked into a random cafe the other day needing a Nightwing, and I had no idea how to explain it.”

“A Nightwing?” 

“Okay, see, in Gotham, a lot of shops started using the Bat scale of drink energizing. Robin was non-caffeinated, although there was that one time the kid himself came in and complained about it, so now it kinda varies. Batman is straight black coffee. Red Hood’s kinda rare, it’s got alcohol in it, so you only get that some places, although sometimes they’ll sell virgin Red Hoods. Dunno what’s in those, though, never really tried ‘em. Nightwing is hot cocoa mixed with coffee--whipped cream and other stuff optional, although they always try to draw the symbol and it’s adorable and like the most instagrammed thing in Kane county, ‘cause Bludhaven does it too. But Red Robin…” Bette exhaled, almost whistling, “Red Robin is super strong, with some caffeine tablets thrown in and optional energy drink shots. Average person who drinks it either goes into shock or doesn’t sleep for a week.”

“And what’d you do?” Kathleen asked.

“What?”

“When you drank a Red Robin.”

“Got a mega adrenaline rush and nearly burst all my stitches,” she said immediately. “It was NOT a fun night for Aunt Cathy.”

Kathleen laughed. “I have to try this.”

Bette smiled wickedly. “That, I’d pay to see.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kathleen said. 

“It’s settled. Next time you’re in Gotham, I’m buying you coffee.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Whoa there. We haven't even known each other for a week,” Bette teased.

“Of course. Forgive me,” Kathleen said quickly. “I got ahead of myself.”

“I’m just teasing you. I don’t mind,” Bette said. “My cousin Kate’s always accusing me of it.”

“How’d she react to your career choice?” Kathleen asked. 

“I don’t think she knows. She’s been off the grid—avoiding the paparazzi on a vacation of some sort with her girlfriend of the week.” She looked up in thought, then continued. “She’s probably pissed I left the military. She tries to act like she doesn’t care what I do, but she’s rather determined to not let me make her mistakes.”

“She was expelled, right?”

“Under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” Bette added defensively. “She wouldn’t lie about being a lesbian.”

“Oh,” Kathleen said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s okay.” Bette sighed. “I worshipped her when I was little. Now...I still respect her a lot, but she’s kind of a mess and we’re really different. She’s never gonna approve of me or my life choices, but then, since I don’t have parents I kinda need somebody to fulfill the role of the never-satisfied-critical-relative, right?”

“My mom encouraged me to be an art major,” Kathleen said. “My dad’s only request is for me to outlive him. I can’t exactly relate.”

Bette laughed. “Suppose so. Your private Dick a part of the deal?”

Kathleen rolled her eyes and nodded. “For a year after mom died, it was more of a private army. I felt like a really useless president.”

Bette considered taking a cheap shot, but held herself back. “What made him cut back?”

“A couple of them tried to kidnap me,” Kathleen said matter-of-facts.

“Seriously?”

“The other two stopped them.” 

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen. After that he stuck to people he trusted. And he believes Richardson is trustworthy. Or at least that I can handle myself.” 

_If you can handle yourself...is he protecting you? Or keeping an eye on you?_. Bette didn’t voice her questions. Second time talking and all that, it was kinda impolite to edge into daddy issues territory. “How’d you decide to major in art?”

“I always really liked it,” Kathleen shrugged. “When I was little, my mom drew me coloring books. She always really loved to draw. I started joining in when I was old enough. And then...well...I wanted to honor her memory. Dad always hoped I’d be a lawyer, but after Mom…a lot of things changed.”

“I’m sorry,” Bette said. “I know that doesn’t help at all, but...I’m sorry. I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too,” Kathleen said. “She was wonderful. She’d have liked you.”

“High praise,” Bette said.

The waiter returned with two steaming bowls of pho, and set them in front of each of them. With quick thank yous and smiles, they dug in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bette gets a case!

Four courses and two hours later, Bette bade farewell to Kathleen and took off by cab for her office. About ten minutes after she settled into her chair, the phone rang.

She grabbed it enthusiastically, but forced herself to assume a calm professional voice as she answered. “You’ve reached Kane Investigations, affordable detective services in the L.A. and Orange County area, Bette Kane speaking. How can I help you?”

“Do you take missing persons cases?” The voice on the other end asked without preamble. Feminine, stilted slightly, as if pre-scripted or newly translated, a subtle accent of some sort.

“Yes,” Bette said. She could, technically.

“I need you to find someone. My daughter. The police say she ran away, but she would not. She is a good girl. I tried to make them listen…” the woman’s voice began to climb. “Please. Find my girl.”

“What are your names and how long has she been missing?” 

“Her name is Estrella Perez. I am Samanta Perez, she is my daughter. She disappeared on the day three days ago. Lunes—Monday. Monday.” 

“Alright, ma’am. Can I make an appointment to talk over details with you?”

“Yes...Yes. Tomorrow? After seven. I work.”

“Is seven thirty PM tomorrow a good time, then?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s good. Thank you.”

“Alright, Ms. Perez. I will see you tomorrow and perform preliminary research. If you could bring any useful records—photos, anything the police gave you, ideally a timeline—whatever you’ve gathered, that would be incredibly helpful to the investigation.” 

“Yes. I will. Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Perez.” Bette hung up the phone, then pumped both fists to her chest with a “yess!” She scooted her rolling chair over to the file cabinet and pulled out a blank, fresh folder. In neat letters, she wrote on the tab: “Missing Person: Estrella Perez.” She laced her fingers and pushed them out in front of her, then set them on her keyboard and started typing. She wanted to be well informed before Ms. Perez came in.


	4. Chapter 4

“She is a honor student,” Ms. Perez said. “She works for Yearbook. She told me she would stay at school for Yearbook until later. She does that often,” she said, pushing a candid photograph across the desk to Bette. Bette shifted her gaze from the school portrait in her hands to the new picture. It showed two girls, both seated at computers, although they had turned around in their chairs. A Latina with very curly dark brown hair laughed, her palm to her forehead, her elbow propped on the desk. Beside her, a middle eastern girl rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, her arm resting on the chair back, only a small smile betraying her amusement. 

“She takes the late bus on Yearbook nights,” Ms. Perez said in excellent, but non-Native, English. “She said she would that day. Nothing was different. She didn’t come home. She didn’t respond on her phone, to me or her friends, even Mitra…” her voice dipped down and she slowed down a bit, “or the other Yearbook girls. She didn’t go to classes at school. Her friends do not know where she could be. She didn’t tell them. We weren’t fighting.” 

“Who’s Mitra?”

Samanta pointed to the photograph in Bette’s hand. “They are best friends. They are in yearbook.”

“Can you arrange for me to talk to her?” Bette asked.

“I can try,” Samanta said. 

“Great. I’m going to need you to sign some paperwork to let me access some of Estrella’s school records—attendance and stuff.”

Samanta nodded, took the offered sheaf of papers, pen, and clipboard, and set them in her lap, watching Bette. “Now?”

“As soon as you’re able, Ms. Perez.”

Around 20 minutes later, Samanta handed the clipboard and completed paperwork back across the desk. 

“Thank you,” Bette said, taking it. 

Ms. Perez nodded and smiled tightly. “Thank you, Miss Kane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been awhile, and this chapter is short. Life’s been chaotic and I was struggling with how exactly to get from last chapter to next chapter. Next one should be at least a bit longer.


End file.
